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<title>you can’t keep on holding me down (i’m already gone) by green_piggy</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183967">you can’t keep on holding me down (i’m already gone)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy'>green_piggy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>tales and chronicles of whump [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Xenoblade Chronicles 2 (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Character Study, Dehumanization, Depression, During Canon, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Grieving, Hurt No Comfort, Missing Scene, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers, Suicidal Ideation, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, it's torna no one is happy here, now featuring EXTREMELY gorgeous art!, suicidal character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:35:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,735</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29183967</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_piggy/pseuds/green_piggy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“I’m sorry,” Addam repeats. “I’m so sorry that I have to ask this of you."</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She rests a hand over her Core Crystal and is seized by the urge to rip it out. But instead, voice ever calm, she just replies: “It’s okay.”</i>
</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>Addam insists that sealing her away is for her own good — is for the good of Alrest. But Mythra had never asked for such power, and her shadow had never asked for existence.</p>
<p>Despite that, the Aegis's fragment spends her single day of existence preparing for an eternal sleep.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hikari | Mythra &amp; Homura | Pyra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>tales and chronicles of whump [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956778</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>you can’t keep on holding me down (i’m already gone)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>rewatching the cutscenes for the gazillionth time and noticed that addam never calls pyra by name, and… well. (if i’m wrong, please correct me, but also just pretend for this fic that he doesn’t lmao)</p>
<p>i love this game so fucking much. thank you xeno 2 for ruining my life. this was written for the day 2 prompt "i can't take this any more", and doing it for pyra and/or mythra was one of the wonderful suggestions given to me!! thank you so much :3</p>
<p>fun fact! if you enjoy Tunes™ i made a music playlist for pyra and mythra :3 <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4CYjhlNHumHqBrUyAg0wOr">you can find it here!</a> in particular, i was listening to <i>hold me down</i> by foreign fields while writing most of this, along with good ol' <i>walking with you</i> from the game ost</p>
<p>hope you, uh, enjoy? <b>PLEASE read all the tags</b> and don’t hesitate to back out if any of them sound like a Bad Time, your health comes first and foremost!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“There,” Addam says, stepping back from the translucent Aegis sword. He rests his hands on his hips and tries for a smile. It wobbles and crumbles off his lips before it even has a chance to form. His next words come out hollow. “That should be it sealed.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t look at her as he walks past, footsteps deafening in the still air. She turns to follow him without a word. She doesn’t glance back, yet she still finds herself forcing down something in her throat. Her hands come to rest in front of her chest, willing that strange lump to vanish.</p>
<p>The Spirit Crucible Elpys is an ancient structure that belongs to the Tornan royal family. She has no idea what it is used for, nor is it something that she needs to know.</p>
<p>The sunset bleeds heavy into the sky when they leave the tomb. Their next destination is an ancient Tornan battleship that is docked on the Leftherian shoreline. It’s a few hours away, just too far to reach before nightfall.</p>
<p>Despite that, Addam doesn’t suggest that they make a campfire. He lets out a large sigh once he pushes shut the entrance, one that rattles through him. He seems so, <em> so </em>tired.</p>
<p>He remains there, with his hands lying flat on the slab of rock and his entire body slumped against it, until she speaks.</p>
<p>“Should we rest for the night..?”</p>
<p>Addam jolts as though stirred out of a dream. “Ah… yes.”</p>
<p>They settle at the bottom of the stairs leading to the Spirit Crucible. Around them stretch small clifftops, speckled with animals that give them a wide berth. None of them attack.</p>
<p>That should be a good thing. She doesn’t know her combat capacities. The mere thought of holding a weapon makes her want to scream and vomit. Addam is in no condition to defend himself. A part of her thinks that, even if he was, he would make no move to do so.</p>
<p>And yet… she feels almost disappointed.</p>
<p>When she gathers the wood and starts a fire with a snap of her fingers, the flickering flames reflect off the water trickling down Addam’s cheeks. He doesn’t make a sound as one, two, three, four — as countless tears drip onto his robe.</p>
<p>She remains quiet. What <em> can </em>she say?</p>
<p>As a Blade, she doesn’t need food, but she knows that Addam does. Despite that, she hasn’t seen him eat or drink since she was born. She gets up to gather food.</p>
<p>When she returns, arms sagging with Whisper Tomatoes and other knick-knacks, the moon is hanging low in the sky near a towering wall of clouds that stretch beyond the heavens themselves. The World Tree is nowhere in sight. Addam is lying down, curled up on his side, facing away from the campfire. Were it not for the minute rise and fall of his body, he would appear dead.</p>
<p>Again, she swallows down that odd chunk in her throat that she seems incapable of getting rid of, and rustles together a simple salad. This — <em> this — </em>is something that her full self cannot do, but that’s only because she was specifically formed to be the opposite of Mythra in every possible way. It’s not a skill that she can claim is her own.</p>
<p>…No. It’s not something that she should <em> want </em>to claim for herself. That is horribly, disgustingly selfish.</p>
<p>Once the food is ready, she gathers water from a nearby pond and brings both the everything over to Addam. He only gazes miles past her at something she has no hope of ever knowing about. She has seen more life in corpses; in Hugo, <em> Milton— </em></p>
<p>She swallows yet again and wonders why her eyes are stinging so much.</p>
<p>“You should eat,” she says. Her voice cracks. She doesn’t know why.</p>
<p>It’s several seconds before Addam blinks. Only his lips move. The rest of his body is completely stagnant. His cheeks shine. “I’m not hungry.”</p>
<p>His voice sounds even more hoarse than hers.</p>
<p>The bowl and bottle chink against the dry mud as she places them down. She stands and walks away, something terrible and all-consuming slithering in her chest. She feels nauseous.</p>
<p>The stars in the night sky are engulfed by the fat grey clouds clustered together. It looks as though it will rain, but not once do the skies weep. She sits on the ground next to the smouldering fire, far away from Addam, and watches the clouds drift until sunrise breaks though, thinking about nothing, absolutely nothing at all.</p>
<p>They leave early the next morning, their supplies abandoned. A bird flutters down to peck at the sliced tomatoes and crunchy leaves in the bowl. Another sips at the stagnant water from the top of the bottle.</p>
<p>Addam walks like a man who has lost everything to death, wondering why it didn’t take him as well.</p>
<p>It’s a feeling that she can understand.</p><hr/>
<p>Reaching the bottom of the battleship is a simple task. Their footsteps echo through the barren halls like an omen.</p>
<p>Addam looks at her for the first time before he pulls open the door, his eyes impossibly sad. He opens his mouth, his lips shaping into — <em> something, </em> but he snaps his head away before she can say anything.</p>
<p>The creaking of the door is deafening. At the end of the long corridor lined with fizzing pipes is some sort of storage unit in the room’s centre. The floor around it glows a dim blue.</p>
<p>Addam takes a step, falters, then clenches his fists and continues onwards with his head held high. She hurries to catch up with him.</p>
<p>She has no idea why they are here, but as she lays eyes on the capsule, something thick and suffocating wraps around her throat and squeezes on her chest. Her stomach rolls.</p>
<p>“Myth—” Addam cuts himself off, voice breaking. She watches him inhale deeply and tilt his head back. There’s a few seconds of no noise; his eyes widen, suddenly, before he shuts them with a sigh that could rattle a Titan. “…Can you summon your weapon?”</p>
<p>A horrible, selfish part of her doesn’t want to. It wants to run up the stairs and out of this ship and as far away from here as she can.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter what she wants.</p>
<p>Nodding, she holds out her hand. A flash of red ignites and condenses into a large sword. So similar to Mythra’s, and yet so different.</p>
<p>“Place it in the pedestal.”</p>
<p>She does so. The gentle <em> thud </em>of the blade’s tip hitting the ground as it slides into place makes her stomach turn again.</p>
<p>She steps back, next to Addam. He’s biting his lip tightly enough that blood swells.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he whispers. He looks at her for the second time, then at the capsule.</p>
<p>She follows his gaze. It appears to be just large enough to fit a human inside.</p>
<p>
  <em> “Is me sleeping… a part of the trial?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> “That’s right.” </em>
</p>
<p>Oh.</p>
<p>
  <em> Oh. </em>
</p>
<p>So this is where she is to be sealed away.</p>
<p>Something must show on her face, despite her best attempts, for Addam makes a heartbroken noise and tears away to face the opposite wall.</p>
<p>They both know what is to happen. They both know that this is their choice. Yet, neither of them are willing to break this moment, for she knows that this is the last time she will ever see Addam.</p>
<p>A small, traitorous part of her is almost glad. She has no idea why.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Addam repeats. “I’m so sorry that I have to ask this of you.”</p>
<p>She rests a hand over her Core Crystal and is seized by the urge to rip it out. But instead, voice ever calm, she just replies: “It’s okay.”</p>
<p>Even if she is only an ember of the Aegis’s all-consuming light, she is still more powerful than most Blades. She is still a threat to this world, still part of the one who destroyed so many Titans, ruined so many lives. Her mere existence would ruin Alrest.</p>
<p>It doesn’t matter that she had never asked for such power, had never asked to be born at all. She is here now. That is what matters.</p>
<p>The capsule door pushes out with a hiss.</p>
<p>“Someone <em> will </em> awaken you,” Addam insists. He seems almost crazed, eyes wide and pleading, his entire body shaking, evidently attempting to convince himself more than her. It’s not difficult to imagine why; a Driver separating themselves from their Blade, deliberately abandoning them, is a sin greater than almost any other. “This is — a trial. It’s a trial. When humankind can live together in peace, you’ll find another Driver. A <em> better </em>Driver. Someone who can do you right.”</p>
<p>In this moment, he does not look like a prince, the lord of Aletta, the great hero of Torna. Addam Origo looks like a coward.</p>
<p>But she is being cruel. She must do whatever he desires. If he believes that sealing her away is for the best, then who is she to refuse him?</p>
<p>She doesn’t speak. She nods and turns away before walking towards the empty pod. It isn’t a comfortable fit; as she pulls herself up and steps in, she can barely stretch her arms out, although there is a good amount of height. Since resting her arms by her side is uncomfortable, she instead places both hands on her chest, her fingertips brushing against her humming Core Crystal. Emerald light spills out. She shuts her eyes.</p>
<p>The capsule door clicks shut.</p>
<p>
  <em> Thud! </em>
</p>
<p>Her eyes snap open and down; Addam’s fist is against the bottom of the capsule, trembling so violently that it rattles against the glass. Although all sound is muffled, her heart wrenches at his wailing sobs as his body crumbles into a heap against the pod.</p>
<p>For a moment of eternity, that is all she hears. She cannot move. She opens her mouth, but in this vacuum, she cannot form words. She cannot comfort him. All she can do is stand silent and bear witness.</p>
<p>Eventually, his crying quietens down to sniffles. He pushes against the glass and heaves himself upwards, his face splotched, exhausted eyes ringed with red.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry that I couldn’t accept you,” Addam whispers. “The power that you had never asked for, and the fear that you carry — the fear that <em> I </em>gave you. I am so, so sorry.”</p>
<p>That knot in her chest untangles, ever-so-slightly.</p>
<p>“Someone will, one day.” He stretches his hand out wide, fingertips pressing against the glass. “I promise. You will find people <em> — family — </em> who will accept you. You will live. You will be <em> happy. </em>I promise!”</p>
<p>She looks down on him. All she can feel is pity.</p>
<p>Slowly, so very slowly, Addam peels his fingers away. He steps down and looks at her for the final time with the eyes of a dead man, before he turns and walks away.</p>
<p>She watches him go — watches him step past her sword and down the corridor, his back growing smaller with every step. He does not hesitate. He does not turn back.</p>
<p>The door shuts.</p>
<p>She will never see him again.</p>
<p>She will never see anyone she knows ever again.</p>
<p>It is still more than what she deserves.</p>
<p>Against her will, her eyes close—</p>
<p>She welcomes the darkness.</p><hr/>
<p>In that driftless, meaningless void, the first words that Mythra ever says to her are:</p>
<p>
  <em> You need a name, right? </em>
</p>
<p>She’s so startled by the sound — by there being <em> anything </em>in this place, where she can see only nothing and know that this is everything, that it takes her some time to respond.</p>
<p>“…I do?”</p>
<p>There’s a snort.</p>
<p><em> You’re not </em> <b> <em>me.</em> </b></p>
<p>“I am, though.”</p>
<p><em>No, you’re not. You’re a different self.</em> <em>You’re better in every way.</em></p>
<p>She doesn’t <em> feel </em>better. Only empty and brittle, like those little perfume bottles Brighid used for—</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Don’t think about that.</em> </b>
</p>
<p>She doesn’t.</p>
<p>“I’m your shadow,” she eventually says into the deep, yawning void.</p>
<p>Then, a fierce:</p>
<p><em> You’re </em> <b> <em>you.</em> </b></p>
<p>She thinks back to that single night she’d spent alive. To igniting branches and leaves with a snap of her fingers without even thinking about it; to Addam’s face on the other side of the glass, so remorseful and <em> ruined </em>and—</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>STOP IT!</em> </b>
</p>
<p>She does.</p>
<p>
  <em> Ugh, I can’t— </em>
</p>
<p>There’s a long pause as Mythra’s tight voice cuts herself off.</p>
<p>
  <em> I can’t take this any more. </em>
</p>
<p>“Take what?”</p>
<p>
  <em> Stop sharing those thoughts with me. I created you so that I— </em>
</p>
<p>This pause stretches further than the last. Further, thinner, like a cloud barely clinging to its form, wisps of it falling apart and evaporating.</p>
<p>
  <em> A-anyway. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> You’re not me. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> So you need a name. Capiche? </em>
</p>
<p>“You want my name to be ‘Capiche?’”</p>
<p>A snort.</p>
<p>
  <em> It’s a saying. I don’t think it’s a good name, somehow. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> You got any ideas? </em>
</p>
<p>Of course she doesn’t. Why should she? She has no need of one. What is the point of thinking about it?</p>
<p>
  <em> We’re gonna be stuck here for a while. Just the two of us. </em>
</p>
<p>Mythra’s voice is low, tinged with something that sounds like regret. It reminds her vividly of Addam, from the sorrow entangled in the core of every word, right before she coughs and audibly attempts to force cheer past those strangling threads of despair.</p>
<p>
  <em> So, yeah! </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> I’m not gonna be calling you ‘Me’ for the next who-knows how many years. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> That’d get pretty uncomfortable, heh. </em>
</p>
<p>Mythra’s laugh is painful to her ears.</p>
<p>“I… don’t know where to start. I don’t know what makes a good name.”</p>
<p>Is it even something that she should have to put thought into? All Blades are born with an intricate knowledge about themselves — of their age, their name, their appearance, their powers. They may have no memories, but they are still born with more intelligence than a human babe.</p>
<p>She… knows nothing.</p>
<p>
  <em> Weeeeeeell… </em>
</p>
<p>Mythra drags the word out.</p>
<p>
  <em> What powers do you have? I’m guessin’ not light. </em>
</p>
<p>“I… made a campfire,” she murmurs.</p>
<p>
  <em> So, fire. Pretty sweet. Warm and kind and not too powerful… </em>
</p>
<p>There’s a lengthy silence. Just as she’s about to speak, Mythra’s voice comes bursting out:</p>
<p>
  <em> What about a name related to fire? Mine’s related to light. And we’re sisters! </em>
</p>
<p>Sisters…</p>
<p>As if a weapon like an Aegis can have any concept of <em> family. </em> How can Mythra so confidently use that word?</p>
<p>No… it’s not confidence. It’s desperation. It’s the overwhelming fear of being alone.</p>
<p>Her thoughts must not bleed over, because Mythra is continuing to ramble.</p>
<p>
  <em> …I think it’d be cute if we had matching names. What do you think? </em>
</p>
<p>“Why do you ask?”</p>
<p><em> Uh… it’s </em> <b> <em>your </em> </b> <em> name. </em></p>
<p>Mythra sounds genuinely confused. She can’t work out why.</p>
<p>
  <em> Gotta make sure you like your own name. </em>
</p>
<p>She’s not a person. She’s just a shell, a fragment. Nothing. Her ‘liking’ her own name… why does that matter? Why does she even need one?</p>
<p>But… well. She’s <em> Mythra’s </em>shadow. And if Mythra wants her to have a name, then… she might as well.</p>
<p>“That sounds good.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Great! Get thinkin’, then. Lemme know when you have an idea! </em>
</p>
<p>It’s subtle, like the snapping of a frayed string, but she can feel Mythra disconnect entirely. She knows that if she pulls, she’ll come back, but for now… Mythra lies dormant.</p>
<p>A name relating to fire..?</p>
<p>What words could be associated with it?</p>
<p>Blaze. Char. Combust. Ember. Flame. Flare. Hearth. Ignite. Inferno. Phlogiston. Pyre—</p>
<p>
  <em> Pyre. </em>
</p>
<p>A pyre is a combustible stack traditionally used during a funeral rite to burn the bodies of the departed. No matter how powerful she can make her flames, she will never be able to free the souls of everyone she has killed. Even if she didn’t exist at the time, even if she is only a fraction of the Aegis’s power, she is still part of her. She was created precisely to share that burden, so that Mythra wouldn’t drown under its weight alone.</p>
<p>It would be astronomically selfish of her to refuse to take on the only reason for her existence.</p>
<p>She tugs on their connection.</p>
<p>
  <em> Yeah? </em>
</p>
<p>“Pyra.” The name sounds strange on her lips. It is because, she realises, that it is the first thing that has ever been <em> hers. </em>The first, and probably the last. “That’s my name.”</p>
<p>There is silence, then:</p>
<p>
  <em> Well, Pyra. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Nice to meet you. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> My name is Mythra. </em>
</p>
<p>In their shared dream, as Elysium forms, a church bell gives its first death knell.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[ <a href="https://twitter.com/greenpiggles">twitter</a> ]</p>
<p>[ <a href="https://twitter.com/lordquince/status/1357547595917262849">image source</a> ]</p>
<p>thank you so SO much to <a href="https://twitter.com/lordquince">snazz</a> for the absolutely gorgeous picture - i owe you my entire life ;A;</p>
<p>if you liked the fic, please consider leaving a kudos and/or comment! thanks so much, and have a wonderful day~</p></blockquote></div></div>
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